Chapter 5
EVA
I’m supposed to be working, typing at my computer, installing backdoors and exploiting weaknesses to access forbidden files. Why? I have no idea. That’s above my need-to-know. Orders came down from on high, and now I’m breaking into the files of some genuinely terrifying people.
Still, no one is as terrifying as the man who stormed into my basement only days ago. The man with a gaze sharp as ice, with very little humanity behind it. The man with the horrible scars on one side of his face, the side he kept in shadow that night at the club.
What had happened to the hot, charming Mr. Giant who’d fought off Jordan’s attackers and patched me up so gallantly? I honestly thought I was going to die, with every fiber of my being. I was waiting for the bullet, praying Katie or my father wasn’t the one who found me.
The man who stormed into my house? I assume he’s Evgeny Kucherov, head of the Kucherov Bratva. He believed I was hacking to cause trouble. Apparently, he’d even tied that to my appearance at the club, thinking it was somehow part of my plan to…
What?
I have no idea what. No one has told me a thing since I arrived. I get meals and orders, and that’s it. At least one armed and very grumpy man stands outside my door at all times, so I’ve been confined to this set of rooms, and only these rooms, for three days now.
I should be working, but instead I’m staring at the ceiling over the enormous bed I haven’t slept in because I haven’t been able to shut my brain off.
I don’t want to show all those men out there how terrified I am, but every time I close my eyes, my entire body shakes, the tears come, and my breath is short as the walls close in on me.
I try very hard not to think about the fact that I’m a prisoner in this palatial house. I have a feeling I’m going to spend the rest of my life here.
And I don’t even know how long that’s going to last.
Will I ever see my family again?
The sound of the door unlocking echoes through the sparse rooms, bouncing off the cold, bare sandstone, and I scramble off the bed. I can’t make it to the computer in time to pretend I’m busy and fool the bear who stalks in.
He’s easily one of the biggest guys I’ve ever seen, towering over me, his shoulders half as wide as I am tall. The top of my head barely comes up to the center of his chest, and I feel suddenly childish standing in front of him.
“You’re supposed to be working,” Dmitri grunts.
“I’m taking a break. My eyes hurt.”
The way he watches me, eyes narrowed, mouth a thin line, makes it clear he doesn’t believe me.
“Do you want me to say I’m having an existential crisis because I’m being held against my will until your boss decides he has no more use for me?”
“Actions have consequences,” the big man says, his massive shoulders rolling in a shrug.
I blink, open my mouth to reply, then close it again because he’s not wrong. I just didn’t understand how bad the consequences of my actions would be.
“Don’t try to take on the Kucherov Bratva next time. Now come on,” he says, jerking his head toward the door.
“Uh…”
The room I’ve longed to leave is suddenly the only place I want to be. But Dmitri gestures again, this time sharp with impatience, and I drag my heels as I follow.
The guy at the door, the one holding the very large gun, doesn’t look at me as I pass, but he does turn his head toward the big guy I’m following.
“We’ll be back,” he says to the guard, and I take heart that he said we’ll be back and not I’ll be back. Maybe it means I’m going to live.
For now, anyway.
We walk in silence down the hallway, then turn into another before my curiosity and anxiety get the better of me.
“Am I allowed to ask where we’re going?”
“I’m showing you the place. The parts you can go, anyway. Might as well get your bearings since you’ll be here for the foreseeable future.”
“Oh. Thanks.”
He glances over his shoulder. “Do you need anything?”
“I, uh…” The question catches me off guard. I’m already surprised by the tour of this estate. Now he’s asking me if I need anything? “I guess I need underwear?”
It’s an odd place to start, and the flicker of amusement through his blue eyes seems to agree. My cheeks heat.
“It’s not like you guys let me pack a suitcase when you dragged me here. The only thing I have is the clothes on my back, which are beginning to smell. I only have the toothpaste and toothbrush the older woman brought me the first night.”
Again, a flicker of amusement sparks in the bear’s eyes, but this time it’s accompanied by a chuckle. “All right. I’ll have clothes and other things sent to you. Alona should know your size. Anything smaller than me, and I’m lost, and I know better than to ask about a lady’s weight.”
I just stare at him.
“What about things for the shower?”
I nod, a small frown on my face. “I guess shampoo, conditioner, a razor. A brush. Hair ties would be nice.”
“I’ll add that to the list.”
“Oh, and, uh—” I pause again, steadying myself before I blurt, “—and birth control. I get horrible cramps if I don’t take it. And I’ll need feminine supplies as well.”
My voice drops as I say the last part, and I can feel his discomfort even though all I can see is the back of his dirty-blond hair, which he keeps cropped close to his head.
“Tell me what you need, and I’ll make sure it gets to you.”
“Thank you,” I say to the back of his head.
“This is the living room.”
He sweeps an arm to indicate the room as we speed through, giving me just enough time to gawk at the huge, airy space with walls of windows on three sides, all three looking out to an expansive patio, manicured lawn, and the cerulean blue Pacific.
“This is the dining room.”
We march through a room with an enormous table, more creamy stucco walls, and exposed beams on the ceiling. Art hangs on one wall, but I don’t have time to study it as we keep going.
“Bathroom, theater room, another bathroom—”
“Theater room?” I echo.
“Yeah. You can use it as long as you ask permission. Extra bedrooms and bathrooms through that doorway and down that hall.”
Dmitri gestures to an open door, and through it I can see a long hallway, pale carpet, and more doors. I only half see them, because my head is still trying to wrap around the idea of a home theater I’m allowed to use.
“That’s the breakfast nook, and this is the kitchen.
” Dmitri finally stops walking and crosses his massive arms over his equally massive chest. “You can come in here whenever and get whatever food you want. If you need anything, you can tell the housekeeper, Alona. If she won’t do it, tell me.
She likes to pretend she only speaks Russian, but she understands enough English to get you what you want. ”
I stare at the spotless chef’s kitchen, larger than two rooms of my house. From here I can see the ocean, an enormous pool, and the outdoor living room that’s probably as big as my house. I wonder what the hell is going on.
“Why are you doing this?”
Dmitri’s eyebrows draw together at my question. “Because you hacked into—”
“No, not that.” I shake my head. “Why are you giving me all this freedom? Clothes, access to the kitchen and the theater room?”
Those enormous shoulders rise and fall again.
“Same reason you pay attention to your fish tank. What’s the use of having a fish if you don’t give it what it needs and it dies?
Pretty sure we wouldn’t get much work out of you if we did, and if you’re good enough to hack into our systems, you’re good enough to do the work we need. ”
The cold admission leaves me breathless. They’re keeping me alive so I can do a job. That’s all.
“We’re not complete monsters. Most of us, anyway.” The big man doesn’t smile when he says it.
Silence settles over the spotless kitchen, and Dmitri stays quiet for a minute as though he’s letting me take everything in.
“Anything else?” he finally asks.
“Could I—” The words are on the tip of my tongue, but I nearly swallow them before forcing them out. “Can I have a phone? To call my fa—”
“No.”
Dmitri’s sharp denial cuts me off with a finality I feel in my bones.
“You will have no contact with the outside world. Like Evgeny told you, you try to escape, you try to tell anyone where you are while you’re working, and all this is over. We’ll know about it, and we won’t forgive another transgression.”
Just like that, Dmitri is back to the mafia bear of ice and steel. I’ve met the boundaries of my captivity, and it’s a stark reminder I have no friends here, only enemies.
“Okay.”
The word sounds meek to my ears, which makes me angry because I hate feeling this way. But the feeling dies to embers just as quickly, because the realization fully sinks in that this is my reality for now and the foreseeable future.
“Good. Tell Alona if you need anything. Oh and,” he gestures at the northern wing of the house I can just see through the kitchen windows, “don’t go into the northern wing of the house. It’s completely off-limits to you. This is your only warning.”
Dmitri turns and leaves without another word, and I step out into the outdoor living room. The bracing, salt-laced breeze whips my hair. I shiver, but it’s not because I’m cold.
From where I stand, I can hear the waves crashing at the bottom of the cliff, a steady, booming rhythm that tells me just how far down I’d fall if I decided to try to escape. An escape would, as Evgeny Kucherov himself promised me, end in my death.
Beyond the cliff is only the ocean, stretching to the endless horizon.
Tall hedges on either side of the enormous property block the view of any other neighboring mansions.
I’d seen as much as we drove through the Palos Verdes hills and through the massive, heavily guarded gates to the palace-like structure on a cliff.
At first, sitting terrified in the back of the black SUV between two armed Russians, I’d had a bizarre thought we were heading to one of those vacation resorts.
We might be in an LA suburb surrounded by wealth, golf courses, and mansions on either side, but for all intents and purposes, I am alone.
The cognitive dissonance is fierce, and a sudden lump in my throat chokes off my air again, my stomach roiling with it.
I’m in a Palos Verdes mansion, a part of the greater Los Angeles area I have never been to and never expected to be.
Apparently, I have all but the north wing at my disposal, a view of the ocean, a pool, and a vista worth all the millions the mafia boss paid for it.
And yet, I can’t leave the premises or I’ll be shot dead. I’m under constant surveillance. I can’t run to the corner store, take a drive, or get coffee with Dad. We can’t talk to each other while he flips silently through a book. I can’t even call my family to let them know I’m alive.
Tears fill my eyes, the view going wobbly until the blues, greens, and browns mix into one quivering blob of color.
I am never getting out of here alive.